


Stronger Than Blood

by ReclessAbandon



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Force User, Force-Sensitive Reader, Force-User Reader, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Related to a Sith, Sith, Sith Lord - Freeform, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force, Tumblr, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, fic request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReclessAbandon/pseuds/ReclessAbandon
Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	1. Another Happy Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in my Tumblr, requested by an Anon in my ask box. This was fun for me to write on, because obviously this prompt is new to me. Rarely do I make the Reader a Dark Side character—one way or another. Also, I wonder if the devs are ever gonna put a currency system in the future SWJFO games—you know, like actual money to buy stuff? That’d be so great. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the fic!

Four consecutive blasts from an unseen enemy quakes the Mantis. The screens in the cockpit—both big and small—flash red as an alarm blares from an unknown source. All three crew members were on high alert.

“Captain, what’s going on with the ship?!”

“We’re being pursued by a freighter ship!” the young Jedi reported with a frantic voice, he had to hold his monitor with both hands to keep it from shaking.

“Haxion!” the captain hissed. He then threw his arms all over his dashboard while keeping himself glued to his seat.

Apparently, the flailing of four arms altogether was a bit distracting in Cal’s peripheral vision. When Greez met the boy’s expression that obviously screamed “What are you doing now?” the captain got cocky and began to prep the ship for hyperspace in the middle of a burnout.

“GREEZ, THAT’S TOO DANGEROUS!!” Cere objected.

“I DON’T PLAN ON FLOATING IN THE DEEP VACUUM OF SPACE IN FRONT OF THE BROOD!”

The two adults bickered, having Cal stuck in the middle of it all—with nothing else to do but to watch the monitors, turn some knobs to stabilize the overheating and keep it that way.

“Guys, if you’re done arguing!!” Cal finally snapped. “The ship can make a jump to the next planet that’s seven parsecs away.”

“Well then, let’s get to that seven-parsecs-away planet!!”

The Lateron continued his handiwork with all of the controls in front of him, the finishing touch being the pull of the lever to activate the jump to lightspeed. He cranked the silver handle hard—so hard to the point that the sound of the shaft was a loud clank of gears and cogs—and the next thing they know, they were looming through that bright blue tunnel of light into the next side of the galaxy.

The crew finally got a breather after evading cannon fire from the Haxion Brood’s ships, but the Mantis is barely holding herself together. The screens continue to flash red at the crew, Cal caught a glimpse of their destination in one of his dashboard’s monitors.

“Nalima,” he reads out loud to everyone.

“I’ve heard of this planet—the capital city isn’t too far in our trajectory,” Cere spoke while keeping her eyes glued to her communications monitor.

“Yeah, I’m picking up a lot of signatures in my screens here,”

“Well, I hope we find a nice spot just right in front of the Imps’ noses, eh?”

Greez’s sarcastic remark was received with an unimpressed glare from Cere, adding up Cal’s awkward side-eyed glance just to see both persons’ reactions.

Things returned to their regular flow seconds later—save for the constant red alert that the Mantis keeps reminding the crew—and they’re about to exit hyperspace in less than a parsec. Greez expressed perhaps the greatest concern he’s ever openly said to his crew—and it was something not to be taken lightly of, the other two knew caught wind of it and actually had similar thoughts.

Cal, who always seem to be optimistic about things even in the most dire of predicaments, suggested landing someplace where there’s a docking bay _and_ a workshop where they can have the Mantis checked.

“Let’s hope it’s not gonna cost me as much as a new ship!” Greez jabbed.

The Mantis throttles its way through the atmosphere, the turbulence was much stronger considering that the suspension is nearly asunder—along with the other parts of the ship that the Brood has taken a hit on. The captain warns everyone to buckle up and hold on tight, as he himself does the same while keeping a grip on the steering wheel with _all_ four arms.

Greez struggled to keep the Mantis from swerving, there wasn’t much he could do with the exhaust that caught fire when they tore through the thin sheet of the atmosphere. Cal managed to find a spot where they can safely land, away from the eyes of prospective enemies—since they’re not even sure if the Empire has planted its feet on the planet’s soil, but it’s not much of a stretch for that to be a fact.

The captain landed the Mantis in what ought to be an abandoned shipyard. Perfect. Literally away from all the eyes who would take interest of ransacking the thing—except, of course, thieves.

“Well now…” Cal ran his fingers through his hair, combing back the locks that drooped over his forehead. “Another happy landing.”

Promptly, the entire crew checked on the vital areas of the Mantis. Cal sped back the engine room—which was also his bedroom—and hot air fumed within the narrow space, beads of sweat instantaneously dotted his neck and temples the moment he stepped inside.

“Okay, I think we got a cooked hyperdrive compressor here!” he coughed, fanning the pungent smoke that wafted around his bedroom.

When he was received with no reaction, he assumed the other two had gone out of the ship to check the exterior damage. He repeated what he found inside while Greez gawks at the horridly bent hydraulic tendon of the landing gear.

“Well, that’s just great! Where are we gonna get spare parts!? It’s gonna take forever for us to patch her up again!”

“Look on the bright side, at least we’re in civilization—there’s bound to be one,”

“Kid, I wish I could see that _bright side_ in this dark place I’m in,” Greez whined.

Cere consoled the Lateron captain, assuring him that things will come through. In the meantime, Cal volunteered to go around the city, hopefully to find a kind soul who could hook them up with some spare parts for cheap and an extra set of hands—if they’re extra lucky.

“We’ll stay in the ship, see if the Imperial presence is dense here. We’ll lay low while you go around,” Cere’s tone immediately changed from cool to stern, that meant that she’s about to repeat herself in warning Cal to be careful.

“I know, I know. I mean, hey, what could go wrong past this?”

“I wouldn’t count on it, Cal!” Greez added, anxious of whatever outcome will walk into the picture in the next moment.

Cal mumbled “Come on” to BD-1 perched onto his shoulder before heading into the city proper. The little droid replied with a tiny beep in agreement. The Lateron’s overly-anxious grumbling over the Mantis is gradually drowned out by the busy noises of the city as Cal approaches.


	2. Meet the Mechanic

The cityscape reminded him so much of Bracca and Coruscant altogether.

Tier upon tier of annexes and alleyways along buildings, big and small, framed the city. Humans and other races diversified the bustling city life. Cal was already beginning to get nauseous for flicking his eyes left and right in search of a parts shop—as well as watching out for Imperial patrols.

“I just hope the Imps doesn’t find out soon that we’re here,”

“Bee… Trill?”

“Yeah, buddy, of course we’re gonna find help. Don’t you worry,” additionally, Cal patted the little droid’s head as he walked.

Not long after his consolation to the droid, a modest parts shop caught the eye of the young redhead. The sign only read “Tundu’s Mech” presuming that it was the name of the owner. Either way, he followed his instincts, trusting that from the looks of the building’s façade, it was highly likely a mechanical parts shop. Hopefully, they’ll have the merchandise the Mantis needs.

The door of the shop was merely twin swinging doors that flopped even when the person has gotten through, the hinges were squeaky enough to produce a sound—signalling the entry of a customer—until it mellowed. An Iktochi appeared from the other side of the room, obscured by a wall of small parts in a closed display case, nonchalantly greeting the boy. The blood-orange creature didn’t face Cal until he waddled towards the counter, in a sort of formality.

“Welcome, friend!” he repeated. “See anything you need here? I assure you I have quality wares as much as the next stall in the block!”

Cal didn’t waste time with the niceties. He started off by telling the parts that the Mantis needs as well as an extra set of hands to help out. Without needing to be prompted, BD-1 flashed a holograph of the entire Mantis’s cross-section, highlighting the damaged parts red.

The Iktochi shopkeeper ran his clawed finger across his chin as he took a gander of the hologram. He wagged his finger.

“Aaaah-ha,” he groaned. “I think we may have something. Hold a minute.”

The owner suddenly shifted to speaking in his native Iktochese, fixating his head in the direction of the other side of his shop. Shortly after, you popped out of the room where he had his eyes on, and then you joined him by the counter. Tundu continued using his dialect on you, it was stern and hissy, you replied in full Iktochese in the same bickering-like manner.

You took notice just now of the ginger boy with a tiny droid riding his shoulder. Your eyes met for the briefest moment and then the Iktochi transitioned into speaking Galactic Basic.

“You’re in the workshop again, child! You’re staying there for way too long and less on watching the store!” Tundu scolded.

“It’s lean hours already, Tundu, I doubt someone will come here,” you argued.

“Well, there is one now, [y/n],”

Tundu gestured to Cal. His presence in the store finally sank into you.

“Hey,” you casually greeted. “What do you need?”

Cal stuttered and fumbled over his person, by habit he searched his pockets hoping to find a compact projector there and forgetting for a moment that BD-1 had that covered. The little droid sensed the redhead’s anxiety and did him a solid of flashing the holograph again.

“Oh, thanks,” he quickly told BD and then turned to the blue projection of the ship. “Yeah, we need these parts—hopefully you have something that fits into a luxury cruiser.”

“An S-161 luxury yacht,” you uttered, an expression of interest plastered all over your face. “Impressive. Not many models like this nowadays. It’s beautiful.”

Cal’s eyes trailed to you, an involuntary smile curled at the corner of his mouth as he studied your inquisitive expression, peering and squinting your eyes closer to the projection to get a better look. He sensed something unique about you ever since you walked in on him and the store owner. It was only a feeling and he didn’t fully trust it yet.

You clicked your tongue, and then hovered your pointer finger about the broken tendon of the landing gear, “I think I can find you a fresh replacement for this one. The others—the bigger parts—are gonna need some inventory checking.”

“You made inventory last month, no?” Tundu jabbed.

“Wouldn’t hurt to visit the storage room,” you shrugged.

“Good, good,” a tired sigh was released from the Iktochi’s lungs. “Sorry, your name? Cal, was it? I shall leave you to my little protégé. My apologies. Bad back, you know.”

Without needing a response from the boy, the Iktochi immediately retreated to his private room in the shop. Now, it’s just you and the boy with a little droid.

“Sorry, he often forgets that he works up his lungs whenever he scolds me,”

“He does seem to trust you well enough though,”

You scoffed, “Guess you could say that.”

A pause. Cal looked around the store while you continued to gather and then re-sort the scattered merchandise on the counter display.

“So, uh, don’t wanna rush you the same way your boss does but when are you gonna do that inventory check?” Cal struggled to sound as politely as he can, without sounding like he’s telling you how to do your job.

You dismissed it as you continued reorganizing the items, “Oh sure, this’ll be done in a sec.”

You told him to wait in that little area that could be the lobby, you gestured to a crate and offered him a seat, followed by an apologize for not having the best interior design in Nalima. You excused yourself to the stockroom, the sound of the metal clanging together was enough an evidence for Cal to know you’re trying your best to help.

You come out of the room with two parts on each hand. You raised the right hand first.

“Okay, this is the landing gear ligament that I told you,” you switched to the left hand. “ _This_ is a replacement suspension coil. I didn’t see your ship land but I think it’s safe to assume that you’ve worked up your cruiser there. It’ll be dangerous to work with a brittle suspension.”

You were taken aback when Cal started marching towards you, under the impression that he was about to take the parts off of your hands, you retracted them farther from him and then shot him a quizzical look straight in the eye.

“Don’t worry, I was just gonna take a look,” he said so in a gentle, reassuring tone.

Not only did his voice make you certain enough that he’s trustworthy, it was the feeling he gave off ever since he stepped in the store. Back in the workshop, you had already sensed his presence, but shrugged it off as a fluke—that is until Tundu called for you to the counter and met him.

You were slightly hesitant to hand him over the parts, when he stood close enough, a metal shine caught your eye—you followed it and found a _very_ familiar trinket hanging on the hook of his belt.

_Jedi…? Here?_

All of a sudden, your mind was in a rush. The memories immediately flooded over you, clouding you of your senses. The hesitation tripled, but you were too late to reaction when you felt his fingertips make contact with your palm as he takes away the parts from your hands with care.

“Are you okay? You kinda froze there for a moment, [y/n],”

“You’re a Jedi, aren’t you?” the delivery of that question was calmer than you expected it to be.

Your eyes met again. Cal had a startled look in his face, while your expression mirrored the same frozen state you had mere seconds ago.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna turn you in,” you assured him, but uttered it within his earshot. You take a deep breath and shifted back to the _real_ topic at hand, turning your voice back to its normal volume. “Oh, and your busted hyperdrive compressor? That’s a bit tricky.”

“Why? Why’s it tricky?”

“Well, for one: it’s hard to come by those things,” your shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know why people keep breaking their compressors every now and then.”

“And I suppose you know where to find one?”

An amused chuckle rumbled in your throat, “Take a wild guess, pretty boy.”

Cal replied with his trademark smug, putting himself at par with your snark. For whatever odd reason that he couldn’t point his finger on, the vibe that you exuded intrigued him the longer he interacts with you. It’s almost as if the Force was telling him—rather, nudging him about something.

“Tomorrow. Come by here tomorrow and I’ll take you to the inner district,”

“Why not now?”

That amused smile that adorned your face melted in an instant when the answer came into mind.

“Imperial patrols, they’re stricter—and more suspicious of you—when going through the inner district. Especially at this hour. You arrived here just a tad borderline of the wee hours,”

“No surprise there,” said Cal agreeably.

Two of you have settled the agreement for tomorrow’s excursion. You instructed him to meet you at the store in the morning—when the patrols aren’t so strict. It almost felt like a shame for you to tell him that it’s closing hours now, but he flashed a friendly smile at you as he slowly walked away.

As soon as Cal left the store, the feeling was still there and couldn’t make of it—at least not yet.

“Bee, chirp?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, BD. There’s just… something that about that [y/n],” Cal confided to the tiny companion on his shoulder. “It’s strange, but… I know it means well.”

He dismissed the thought as he made his way back to the Mantis, he eventually spotted the Imperial patrols that you were talking about—white duraplast armor sticking out of the dark, neutral colors of the city like a sore thumb—and evaded them. The whole ordeal reminded him greatly of how he strode Bracca’s streets day and night, in and out of work, just to avoid these Stormtroopers.

Cal got back to the Mantis, unfollowed and unscathed, and bore the good news to the crew in the middle of dinner.

“Just how much trust can you put in a person?” Greez asked, his tone delivered the question somewhat sarcastically, but he was gravely serious.

“Well, I don’t know if I can justify my reason but… there’s just something about her that I can’t explain,”

“You know the word for that is called ‘crush,’ right, kid?”

The young Jedi’s cheeks burned nearly as red as his hair. He averted his face from his crew, hanging his head low while he fiddled away the food on his plate.

“You don’t mean that she’s…”

“Force-sensitive?” Cal shrugged as he drives the prong of his fork into the Scazz steak and brings it into his mouth. “Could be or could not.”

Cere expressed on the crew’s behalf that she trusts Cal’s judgment.

“So far, you haven’t befriended anyone who’s tried to kill us,” Cere blurted, somehow solidifying her confidence in the boy.

“Right?”

The crew continued on with their meal. The quarters weren’t a suitable place for Cal to sleep in yet, so he slept in the couch of the lounge instead—and made himself comfortable there. In the midst of the dead silence of the ship, he had more time to think… of you.

He doesn’t know if you were aware of it, but the moment his fingertips brushed against the skin of your palm, he felt a jolt course into his body. Given that his connection with the Force is still healing, even a Padawan could still spot the signs, however, this was only a hunch that has yet to be proven.

Cal slept with the hope that the Force could tell him more.


	3. Impulses

Cal went back into the city, preparing for his stroll into the inner district with you. He entered Tundu’s shop again, he was half-expecting you to be already waiting by the counter but to no avail. Footsteps were followed when the hinges of the door stopped squeaking.

You were clad in a poncho, you smiled upon seeing Cal wearing the same article of clothing. The only difference is that yours was long enough to reach your knees.

“Awesome, we have the same cover,” you quipped.

When Cal saw you pull up the hood upon exiting the store, he followed suit.

“Stay close,” you warned within his earshot.

“Don’t worry, I plan to,”

Staying under the broad daylight and going together with the crowd was a good tactic, but Cal felt the growing tremors in your body the farther you got away from Tundu’s store. He’d catch glimpses of you—cautious yet calm in demeanor but deep inside you’re sweating bullets, hanging your head low as you pass by the loiterers who may know your face. Cal was under the impression that you’ve been to this part of town more than once. It doesn’t take a genius, after all, he had survived a similar environment for roughly five years.

As soon as the shadows have towered over the streets, your shallow breathing rasped through your lips, avoiding the eyes of the many bystanders grouped together at storefronts; you felt Cal’s arm brush against yours, causing you to flinch and shoot a glance at him.

“What? You said stay close,”

You wonder where does this boy find his smug confidence within himself and use it so casually. Whatever the answer was, it was a question for another time.

This part of town has always been a catalyst to your anxiety growing tenfold. It’s become an unconscious habit of yours to keep your fists clenched, as if repressing something that you can muster but cannot control. The chances of you getting jumped lingered with every step, so you find a way to distract yourself.

“Tundu says that you need a mechanic?” you began.

“Yeah, well, it’s just me and the captain who’s gonna be working on it. It’d be nice to have an extra set of hands,”

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s a bit of a big project, and we have places to go,”

“Well, that was the job I originally signed up for when I walked into Tundu’s sweatshop anyway. I only ended up being an assistant store keeper because not many come by the place to actually get the service,”

“You seem like a pretty good mechanic,”

You scoffed another chuckle again, “Don’t flatter me too much, Cal. I just might get used to it.”

The two of you traded glances: he had that coy smirk flashing back, while you smiled and giggled away the wholesome awkwardness dangling between you.

Farther and farther into the inner district, all the twists and turns, this is the part of the town the locals call “the Boroughs.” The ambience has gotten sketchier, the crowd sparse, and flashing neon lights took the place of natural sunlight. Cal’s hand searched for the saber at his hip—still there. Good.

Around the curb, you’ve led Cal into a store a little bigger than Tundu’s, and you were greeted by a Balosar storekeeper at the counter upon entering. You had warned Cal beforehand to keep his hood on even when they’re inside. The Balosar’s jaw clenched and his eyes squinted, when he realized who it was under the hood, he eased only for a bit—he was suspicious of your companion.

“Come now, Finteb, you don’t have to be so hostile all the time,”

“I’m being precautious—there’s a difference,”

“Sure,” you moaned indifferently. “Where’s your boss?”

Speak of the devil, the boss stepped into the scene: a Quarren. The creature’s tendrils dangled left and right with every step of the stairs.

“Ah, if it isn’t Tundu’s little protégé, [y/n],”

“Hello to you, too, Melgu,” your deadpan greeting hummed through the room.

“It’s been a while, eh, girl?”

“Look, I don’t plan on staying here. I just came here for what I need,”

The Quarren spots the boy behind your shoulder. Even with the complicated structure of his mouth, you spot a smile curling between the fleshy tendrils dangling on both sides of his face.

“Ah yes, but _who_ needs it—is the question. Is it you or your boyfriend here?”

You felt the color burn in your cheekbones, you angled your cowl lower to hide it from everyone in the room—including Cal, whose cheeks were also flushing red.

“He’s… someone I’m working with,” you dismissed. “And he’s the one who needs it.”

BD-1 promptly flashed the holograph of the Mantis’s cross-section to the Quarren—and the Balosar onlooker—Cal described the part to the store owner in full detail.

Just when Melgu thought he was being slick, your instincts were already telling you what he’s trying to pull—just by judging his body language and the tone of his voice. Cal picked up the hint seconds after you did, but neither of you were ready to call him out just yet. It was between you and the Quarren to negotiate about the ship part.

“I have such a part,” he raised his digit in front of you. “ _But_ it is no ordinary, generic-line compressor. It’s one of my best merchandise to date!”

“I don’t doubt it,” you reassured with a deadpan tone, obviously unimpressed with his bragging. “So, may we see it?”

Melgu turned to his Balosar assistant, Finteb, to go fetch the part from the stockroom. The young male scurried out of the scene and disappeared into the narrow hall of the store; minutes later, he comes back out with the compressor in his hand and set it down in the counter right in front of everybody.

“This is the all-around model,” you uttered, leaning slightly forward to see the finer details. “Corellian make, of course. You’re right, this isn’t some generic unit.”

“Ahh, see? What’d I tell you?”

“How much is this gonna cost me?”

Melgu didn’t answer with words but with a sinister chuckle. Something is _definitely_ up, no denying that. With your collective suspicion with Cal aroused, the two of you became more cautious of what to say or do next to the Quarren.

“Actually, there is _something_ holding me back,”

Your stomach sank, you weren’t able to control the furrowing of your brows. Cal could feel his ribs constricting around his lungs, pleading to the wind that he won’t have the need to use his saber against this Quarren and his Balosar helper. He felt for his saber with his arm subtly, when he felt the edge of the solid cylinder hit his skin, he was assured—at least on that part only.

Meanwhile, you were also dealing you own problem—both mentally and the one right in front of you, repressing the gradual anger welling up in your being while conversing with this wretched scumbag of a black market vendor was a tedious challenge in and of itself. You’ve dug your nails into your palms that you could feel it cutting through the flesh as you try to suppress yourself. Cal can feel it—and _you_ perfectly well know that he does.

“What is?”

“Your boss, Tundu, he and I have some unfinished business—I’m presuming he’s told you that,”

“He hasn’t told me anything,”

“Aww,” he groaned with pity for you in a mocking manner. “I suppose that walking sack of wrinkles didn’t want to bring his little protégé into his mess—or he just didn’t trust you well enough.”

“What are you getting at, squid?”

“Your boss is in neck-deep debt. Obviously, his business is dying and he had nowhere else to run to but me—almost all of his customers come fleeing to me. They’d even risk the Imperial patrols for _my_ merchandise!” he guffawed insultingly.

Melgu continued to gloat about how his business is booming and, consequentially, killing Tundu’s in the process.

“Look, squid, I didn’t come here to watch you goad at me,” you hissed through the tight grit of your teeth. “Unless, of course, you want me to arrange that on the spot.”

The store owner relished the last moments of his bragging rights, he had taken notice of your hand hovering over where your weapon ought to be; but you’re praying that he doesn’t cross that threshold, but knowing Melgu—who was a sentient combination of fragile ego and a red-hot temper—he does not see _any_ boundary.

“Well, aren’t you just valiant? Tell me, are you really willing to go through all of this trouble…” he picked up the part and flaunted it in front of you under the shine of the building’s skylight. “All for this? Or are you also trying to preserve your boss’s honor?”

“That wasn’t really part of my plan until you decided to bring Tundu into the equation, you seaside degenerate!”

Obviously, the Quarren didn’t like the choice of word you used to call him. The inch-thick flesh over his eyes—where one’s eyebrows should be—wrinkled and the long cartilages that frame the flaps of his triangular head tightened.

With the snap of Melgu’s fingers, his goons appeared from all sides of his store—even from the front door—you and Cal were practically back-to-back with one another, but neither of you have drawn out your weapons.

“What’s the matter, a little outnumbered, aren’t we?”

“I like these odds,”

“Be careful, [y/n], in this part of town—being cocky could only lead you to two roads. If so much as a thread of your shirt flies onto me, my men will reach you and Tundu’s precious little outhouse of a shop,” Melgu chuckled in a sinister tone, images worked in his mind of how his henchmen will handle the situation. “Well, frankly, _accidents happen all the time_ , darling.”

“You son of a bitch!” you snarled. “I could kill you right here and now—I’d even include your boy Antennas here for good measure, just so there won’t be any witnesses.”

An involuntary whimper escaped the Balosar’s mouth, looking to his boss for some kind of reassurance that you won’t lay a finger on him, but no such confirmation came—only a low growl objecting your threat. He motioned for his brutes to hold both of you down—they were Devaronians and their arms could snap your spine with a single squeeze.

“You’re not getting close to our shop!” you growled as you’re nearing your boiling point.

“Ohhhh,” he mockingly sighed. “I’m not going anywhere, but I think my men are getting close the second you stay within my men’s grasp.”

Melgu broke out chortling, it irritated you to the point that you felt your insides burning and seething with rage, sharp inhales entered through the paper-thin gaps between your teeth, and Cal never took his eyes off of you the moment the Devaronians grabbed both of you.

“No…” you snarled.

“What was that?” Melgu leaned in, cupping his right ear flap.

“I said… _NOOO!!_ ”

Nobody—not even Cal Kestis, a Jedi—saw it coming. An energy wave sent the whole store flying—both living and inanimate, no one escaped the torrent of Force that emitted from your very being. You quickly helped up Cal to his feet.

“Come on, Cal!”

“You little Serennian bitch!” Melgu groaned as he struggled to prop himself back up.

You gently pushed Cal ahead of you, made a split-second’s worth of a glance and spotted the compressor on the floor. You reached for it, and for the first time, used the Force after some odd years of stagnating your connection with it.

A speeder bike parked by Melgu’s storefront made itself open for the taking. You and Cal hopped on with you on the helm, the two of you sped away before the Devaronian lugs could catch up and dare to hold the speeder bike by its back bumper.


	4. Nothing For Me Here Anymore

You twisted the acceleration handle to the max, cutting through the streets and startling the citizens as they throw themselves to the side of the road.

It seems that your little commotion has alarmed the Imperial patrols. They came at you with their own speeders, since neither of you want to be shot down and be reduced to shrapnel mixed with human gunk, you thought fast on how to lose them.

“[y/n], see if you can jam their comms!”

You immediately found and crunched the button for that function, you hoped that they didn’t radio in for reinforcements before you pressed the button.

A hot pursuit between you, a trio of Imperial patrollers, and the Devaronians in their own landspeeder zoomed through the city—drowning out the humming of the speeders leisurely cruising through the roads. Your first problem was the patrol, so you had to lose them first before getting rid of Melgu’s men. You led them through the elaborate network of annexes and alleyways of the city—luckily for Cal, he’s riding with somebody who knows the place like the back of her hand.

A high-pitched whistle screeched past your eardrum, you barely dodged a speeder’s ion cannon by a millimeter as you darted through the twists and turns of the alleys. An explosion roared behind you—one Stormtrooper on a speeder down, another to go. The last one standing continued to shoot at you as he follows. Irritated, Cal rotated in his seat and whipped out his saber to deflect the next blasts.

“[y/n], steer it steady, I’m gonna try taking this guy down!”

“Got it!”

Timing between pausing and deflecting as you turned left and right countless times, Cal finally got a shot at the Stormtrooper when you were driving straight and steady. The red rod of plasma flew back into its sender, hitting the engine chassis through the narrow gap between the front bumper’s prongs.

Cal shielded his eyes from the light of the blast and whatever debris that may come with it, and then turned back to face your back and slipped his arms around your waist as you drove.

“Are the Devaronians still after us?!”

The young Jedi glanced over his shoulder to find an empty street.

“No, I think we lost them!”

 _That’s what you think._ Your fear has been realized, they intentionally left you to the Stormtroopers and is most likely headed to the store.

“But I _know_ where they’re headed!”

Again, you cranked the handle down and accelerated through the city. You recognize some of the buildings you’re passing by, you thought to yourself that this was good—this was another way to the store. The speeder bike may have drowned out your heartbeat drumming in your ears, but you cannot suppress the anxiety that’s causing it.

 _Please… don’t let me be too late…_ you prayed, continuing to crank the handle even though it’s already been in its full throttle.

Upon arriving to the district where the store is, both you and Cal witnessed onlookers clustering at the storefront. A barrage of blaster fire thundered within the building, their lights spilled out of the open windows and the entrance of the building, and indistinct voices which ought to be taunts thrown to one another bellowed in the midst of the exchange of blasts.

Hearing Tundu’s voice inside the store gave you very little relief.

“Oh no,” you shuddered. You hastily dismounted the speeder, not even waiting for it to get to a full stop. Cal followed suit and he just had the same amount of worry as you do.

“[y/n], wait!” his call fell to deaf ears as you rushed into the store.

At that moment, before you made yourself known between the two parties caught in the crossfire, Cal spotted you fishing out a weapon from underneath your poncho. A part of him expected it to be a lightsaber, but he stood corrected.

With a push of a button, the rod—no longer than ten inches—extended into its full form, both hands secured the handle; as the heads of the staff unfolded, compressed electrical currents crackled and sputtered.

You rushed into the fray, techstaff in hand, and apprehended the goons that were ransacking and backing Tundu—with nothing but a blaster in hand—to a corner.

“TUNDU!!!”

The impulsive call of his name made everybody turn their heads to you, with your presence known, you held your techstaff in front of you in a defensive stance. With the numbers evened out, including Cal in your cavalry, Tundu might have a chance. You come running towards a Rodian who had little time to defend himself after you clubbed his head with the end of your staff, the sound of the impact made you certain you’ve made at least a crack in his skull. Now the Iktotchi is one-on-one with another of Melgu’s bums—a slippery Dug who kept hiding behind the trashed shelves and tables.

“[y/n], don’t worry about me! BEHIND YOU!!!”

You looked and saw that the Devaronians have finally caught up to you, but the sound of Tundu’s cry of pain followed after the Dug shot two blasts to the Iktotchi’s chest made your head jerk back to your boss. It nearly made you nauseous and a blurry white border began to frame your vision.

“TUNDU, NO!!!”

While the Dug celebrated his kill, he got his karma back in the form of your techstaff flinging towards him like an oversized dart and ended him with the blunt force of the weapon, breaking the creatures’ very narrow yet fragile neck bone. The satisfaction of the kill flooded your body with adrenaline. Just when you were about to run up to Tundu to check on him, you heard Cal’s exclamation.

Cal, on the other hand, had no other choice but to use his lightsaber—as much as he never wanted to when coming here—and fought off the Devaronians. One of them came at him, braced him by the shoulders and violently introduced his forehead to Cal’s. Disoriented and seeing four of the red, horned brutes instead of two, you came to his aid by hindering his assailant using the Force.

Focusing your energy on the red-skinned enemy, you aimed at his arm and it was slowly twisting to the opposite direction in a quite unnatural way. The Devaronian fumbled to his knees, wincing and grimacing in pain, but you ignored it; when his companion saw this unusual infliction of pain, he decided to take a step forward, but it became his undoing in a matter of seconds—you directed your left hand at him and aimed your palm at his ribs, constricting it and feeling for the bones to bend. For whatever odd reason you cannot put into words, you wanted to stop… but it felt satisfying.

“Neither of you are gonna get closer!!!” you growled through the grit of your teeth, the fire in your eyes glaring redder than their skin.

Your fingers tensed as it curled, puppeteering the limbs with invisible threads tied to your digits, you snarled more than you're actually breathing. Cal watched you wield the Force with a caliber that equals to a Jedi.

“[y/n], that’s enough!” Cal rebuked.

His words were white noise to your eardrums and you continued wielding the Force on the horned giants. He ran up to you, your hands reduced to a trembling mess upon feeling for the gentle hold of Cal’s grasp encasing them. The Force subsided but left the Devaronians squirming in pain, you’ve already succeeded in snapping one’s elbow to an abnormal direction, the other was clutching his chest as he tried to breathe through a bent rib bone.

You’d expected him to tackle you. From the touch, he could feel your raw strength with the Force, it felt like the wildest storm surge trapped within the smallest vessel, awaiting to shatter what contains it and break free to loose Hell.

Cal noticed that even with your eyes flaring with anger and rage, tears fell like waterfalls and stained your grime-covered cheeks.

“Hey, [y/n],” he cooed, combing away the locks of hair obscuring your eyes and cupping your cheeks to make sure you keep your eyes straight into his jade irises. “It’s okay, [y/n]… Hey. It’s over. You’re okay.”

“No… It’s happened…” you sobbed.

Your words confused the boy, but put the thought aside at the expense of the moment. The silence helped you come back to your senses.

“Wait…” your eyes searched the store for the Iktotchi. “Tundu!”

The two of you followed the faint sound of Tundu’s labored breathing. You vaulted over the table that acted as his cover in the crossfire and found him splayed on the floor, two black circles riddled his chest and they pulsated whenever he attempted to breathe.

“No…” you gasped.

“[y/n]… you have to go… more will come for me, they’ll come for you, too…”

“But I can’t leave you… I can fight for you!”

“There’s nothing much you can do now…” he struggled. “Do me a favor and save yourself, child.”

Your heart bled as you watch him dying.

“Take a speeder and go,” he choked.

“No, Tundu!”

“[y/n],” he inhaled, lifting an arm to your shoulder was difficult as it is already, he starting speaking Iktotchese.

Mentally, it translated to “Never let your will falter in the face of conflict.” It was a little proverb he had beaten into your head numerous times when you were still starting out in his store. You knew it by heart, well enough to understand it even in a dying whisper.

You recited the Iktotchese saying back to him and he managed a proud smile at you, he clapped your shoulder and caressed your cheek.

“Go now… I still got some fight in me left,”

When he saw that you weren’t budging, he looked over your shoulder and found Cal standing behind you. He gestured to the boy to come and take her out to safety. The Jedi placed his hand over your shoulder and gave you a subtle shake.

“Come on, we have to get out of here now, [y/n],”

You’re hesitant to stand up, your blind confidence made you think you can take on the incoming wave of henchmen the same you handled the Devaronians, but the rational voice in your mind prevailed. Cal never took his hand off of your shoulder until you rose up from your knees and turned to him.

Without a word, Cal transferred his hand from your shoulder to your wrist, and then the two of you headed out of the store. The idea of one last look behind you where Tundu is was so tempting, but your legs carried you forward—to the entrance of the store.

The whirring of multiple engines sounded off in the distance—Melgu’s men are coming. You spotted the speeders which ought to have belonged to the Devaronians. Taking each one, you and Cal sped out of the scene before the henchmen could’ve spotted you.

“Try and keep up! I’ll take the lead!” Cal bellowed through the engine hum.

“Got it!”

As you hit the throttle of the speeder, you were already saying goodbye to the life you once had. And now you’re probably walking into a whole other one.

“Please let the saying ‘Third time’s the charm’ be right this time,” you muttered to yourself in a prayerful tone.

You followed Cal to the outskirts of the city. The farther you got, the closer you found the silhouette of the Stinger Mantis.


	5. New Recruit

The view of the city in the distance was new yet nostalgic to you.

You can’t remember the last time you saw the city in this point of view.

Both of you dismounted the speeders, you spotted Cal’s slightly troubled look, probably on what to do with these speeders.

“We can keep it, you know. It’s not like we’ll have someone to return it to anyway,” you casually suggested.

“The Mantis doesn’t exactly have a compartment for speeders,”

“Oh, that’s right,” you grumbled, somewhat disappointed that these were the bigger type of speeders, not the compact ones that can be brought along in ships.

With the Mantis up close, you had to step back to emphasize its size—the dorsal fin did its job is making it look bigger—and you told yourself it was a beautiful ship, past the damages of course.

Cal sighed in frustration, putting his hands on his waist as he strode towards the Mantis. He was replied with a smug chuckle from you, he turned around to see that the exact part was resting in your grasp, held up in mid-air for him to see.

“You sure about that?” you chirped.

His mouth was left agape, one corner of his mouth curling up in an impressed smile, and strode back to you. His memory brings him back to the moment where that strong energy wave—which he had no doubt was the Force—that imploded from you; meanwhile, you were there with the casual façade, failing to mask the fact that you revealed your true nature compulsively minutes ago.

Cal thought it was wise not to bring it up yet.

 _Later._ He thought.

“Wait, what about the other parts? The suspension coil? The landing gear ligament?”

You chuckled again, you unfurled your poncho to reveal a bag slung across your back. “Well, it’s a funny coincidence I had the foresight to bring a bag with everything in it—or maybe that’s just the errand girl in me with the habit of bringing a bag anywhere, all thanks to Tundu.”

“Huh, smart girl,”

A part of Cal guessed that the Force may have guided you, in one way or another, to have such a foresight; but he didn’t doubt your habit and intuition altogether. It’s just with the way you demonstrated such raw power, he was beginning to think of all the possibilities that had to do with you and the Force.

“Oh, I guess I should let you meet my crew,”

Suddenly, your visage shifted from the perky, confident mechanic to a shying violet. Meeting new people was a bit difficult for you, especially with your nature and capabilities, and being attached to people you’re interacting with was a struggling balance between fear and desire. You tried to relax, thought of the things you could and would say to them, and what things you should try to keep from them for the time being.

The Mantis’s ramp unfolded and Cal beckoned you when the incline still hasn’t touched the soil. You followed him into the interior of the ship. It was cramped, the space could be half of a smuggler’s freighter, but the sight of the plants made you smile, it’s not every day you see a ship with flowers as decorations. You continued to survey the interior as Cal searched for his crewmates. On your left, you found the holotable and tried to guess the planets that were flashed on the hologram from the center of the ship—where you stand. To the other side, you found the galley and lounge, where the terrarium is.

You approached the potted red flower across the lounge table, your fingers felt for the petals—they ran smooth against the satin-like texture and you nestled it over your fingertips.

“Cere, Greez! This is [y/n], she’s gonna be our extra set of hands in patching up the Mantis,”

“Well now, I hope he didn’t cause you any trouble to hire you,” Cere added.

“Not really,” you shake your head while you spoke in a casual, melodic tone.

 _Oh lady, if only you knew._ You screamed in your head while flashing a friendly but awkwardly smile, the same as Cal.

Greez didn’t mean to offend, but he pointed out your age and that you’re practically as young as Cal, he actually expected someone older.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I mean well. But I just don’t think you know the gravity of the damage you’re gonna have to fix—along with us fixing the ship too, of course,”

As a rebuttal, you squinted your eyes and slowly nodded. The desire to prove this stout, gray creature wrong burned hot in your bloodstreams—in a healthier and better way, compared to the bloodlust you had earlier.

“Yeah, I’ve dealt with enough ships to know what I’m doing. I think I can make it work,” you pursed your lips, hinting the confidence of your craft. “Just lend me some power tools, I guess?”

“We have a trunk of it that you can use,”

“Great,” you grinned. You clapped your hands. “So, where do I start?”

Having left with no choice, Greez finally caved to having a young mechanic as their extra set of helping hands. He made himself feel better by grumbling consolations under his breath as he marched to the storage compartment to fetch the tools.

He stopped in his tracks and wagged his two pointer fingers in your direction, but mostly towards you, “Do _not_ put a scratch on her.”

“Not even a hairline,” you jokingly raised your hands in a surrendering position as you assured him.

“Okay good,” he murmured and continued to the storage.

It didn’t take long for Greez to come back out from the storage while carrying the trunk of tools. He split up the jobs for each part of the ship, he volunteered to replace the landing gear ligament and suspension coil while you were told to work on the hyperdrive compressor—and Greez personally asked Cal to keep an eye on you while he helps you.

“Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll be careful with your beauty here,”

“Yeah, she’s a beauty alright! And I hope you don’t make her ugly,”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”

Just from the smell, you went ahead into the engine room, scaling down the thin ladder over the banister to find the damaged hyperdrive compressor. The smoke may have cleared but the odor of the cooked machinery was still harsh on the nose. From your bag, you fished out a protective mask and goggles and put them on before beginning your work.

Cal was jumping between checking on you and helping Greez, but mostly he spent his time doing the latter—since the Lateron couldn’t reach certain parts of the landing gear. You wagered the entire service would last for a few hours—given the patchwork and then the testing, and the possible redo of the repairs in case anything goes wrong—but this didn’t make you flinch not one bit. Tundu taught you well enough to know more than what goes in and out of a ship. This was the last favor that you could do to honor his name.

As you worked, your mind dwelled on what could have happened to him, the reality that he might be dead minutes after you fled was a hard pill to swallow. The sparks that spewed out of the broken compressor as you tore it off reminded you of the blinding blaster projectiles that ricocheted back and forth in the store. You tighten your grip every once in a while whenever the sensation of the Force swirls across the nerves of your palm and fingers. Only now did it sink into you that Cal witnessed you wield it—in the same way someone you once knew did.

“Hey, [y/n]?” the call of your name made you flinch. You pull away your mask and goggles to acknowledge Cal. “We’re almost done with the landing gear. Do you need some help with that?”

“Oh, I…” you stammered. “I’m okay on my own. Thanks for checking.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,”

“Well, call me if you need anything,”

You nodded, promptly wearing back your protective gear and continued with your work. As you swiftly turned your back against him, Cal didn’t actually leave the room, he only took a step back and made a sound against the metal floor. He knew that he shouldn’t disturb you, but the skirmish back at the store significantly intrigued him. He timed the apparent moment where you would pause from welding, he sucked air and said your name again.

“I… um… Is it okay if we talk later—after all this?”

Your eyebrows slightly pulled and softly nodded; you sensed the thought that bothered him, a part of you already knows what he wanted to talk about but you dismissed the thought. You continued your work anyway.

The new compressor fits like a glove. You scaled over the railing and left the room to look for Greez and Cal. They just entered the ship almost at the same time as you left the engine room, Cal met your eyes while he wipes the black oil from his one, bare hand.

“The compressor’s fit now,” you gestured at the engine room with you thumb over your shoulder. “Next thing to do is test her out.”

“Alrighty then! As soon as we get off this moon, the better! I’ll fire her up,” the Lateron captain waddled towards the cockpit, wiping the sweat off of his brow with his jacket sleeve.

Cal walked up to you, hurriedly tucking his wiping rag into the back pocket of his pants.

“So, I know this is gonna sound weird or very abrupt—or both—but, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” he stammered. “It’s about that… _thing_ back in the city. You know, starting off with the part at Melgu’s shack.”

 _I knew it._ You thought to yourself, but you didn’t say it in spite. You simply saw it coming.

“About that, I—”

“Oi, c’mere, you two!”

You were cut off by Greez summoning the two of you to get to the cockpit. You lightly tapped his chest, your knuckles knocking against the leather armor, as you walked ahead of him to the front; he rolled his eyes and promised himself to bring it up _again_ later.

Upon stepping into the cockpit, you were met with screens from all sides—front, left, and right. They all flashed so continuously that they almost looked like starlight if you squint your eyes. Greez pointed to the monitor on the upper dashboard, where your eyes followed.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“The new compressor is still trying to integrate with the ship’s main power grid,” you explained.

“Yeah, that’s right, I knew that,” the captain shrugged.

Greez checked the monitors again, he looked at the same screen where the diagnostics of the hyperdrive compressor reflected. It was now blinking green, the computer flashed the details of the compressor’s status.

“Well, one thing’s for sure, the Mantis likes the new toy,”

You smiled to yourself. Satisfied with a job well done.

“How long until we take off safely with the new compressor, captain?” Cere interjected.

“I’m prepping her up already, approximately twenty minutes,” Greez replied.

Cal stole a glimpse of you, still smiling to celebrate your successful handiwork on the Mantis, but he watched that smile melt away and you turn back without even looking at him. He caught up to you in the lounge, collecting your bag and cloak that you dumped onto the sofa.

“Wait,”

You erected from your hunched posture to the sound of your name.

“Where will you go?”

You exhaled bitterly, thinking of the right words while planning your new life at the same time.

“I got nowhere else to go. This _was_ the only home I’ve ever known, ” you cracked, fiddling with the cracked leather of your mechanic’s gloves. You dug your nails into the chipping material to fight back tears—remembering that you’ve lost your home to that Quarren scumbag and his men. No use in going back to your original home planet either.

“Why not stay with us?”

You jerk your head to Cal, startled by the sudden offer.

“We could use a good mechanic like you,” he added.

Color flushed and burned your cheeks. You averted your gaze from Cal to your things and pretended to rummage your bag for things you might haven’t packed yet.

 _Look at yourself, you bumbling mess!_ You scolded yourself as you blindly pawed through your bag. _Quit the bag act—he’s not buying it!_

“I… I’d love to stay but…”

“But?” Cal hummed.

He’s got you there, you don’t have a follow up for that. When he sensed that you were worried about warming up to his crewmates, he assured you that they know you mean well—your heart skipped a beat for various reasons, both good and bad—and it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra in the headcount.

“You’re really sure?”

“Of course,” Cere politely and warmly cuts in, even though the question was for Cal. “We take Cal’s word on it, but you have to earn our trust.”

“I have no problem with that,” even though you technically do, with your capability as a Force-sensitive, they’re bound to know sooner or later—you’re already mentally planning it in your mind when to tell them, or at least prepare yourself once they bring it up.

You actually enjoyed the warmth that this crew exuded, even with all their eyes on you, not once did it feel like they’re harshly piercing into your soul—rather, it felt like they were hugging you with their gazes. It was so nice, _too_ nice in fact that it almost made you tear up. With a hopeful, deep breath, you shake your hand on it and joined the crew.

“Welcome aboard, [y/n]!” Cal beamed as he returned your handshake. At this point, you didn’t care anymore if he saw the pink hue burning in your cheeks.


	6. Lines Are Drawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress is a little slow because I've already returned to my work :< so my regular posting hours from quarantine has dramatically changed ever since I went back to my job. But still, thank you for stopping by to read my stuff! It means a whole lot to me. Everything right now is physically, emotionally, and mentally draining altogether that it's overwhelming. So sometimes I might take a breather. But I'll continue to write and publish <3 The world's gone to fucking shit right now, so I hope you guys are keeping safe and healthy! Another Thank You for supporting my fics by reading it and leaving kudos and/or bookmarks! It means a whole lot to me~ ^w^

**_7 YEARS AGO, BEFORE THE JEDI PURGE_ **

Serenno.

You were only a week shy from being ten years old.

You’ve lived a comfortable childhood. Back then, you didn’t understand the vastness of the family manor—it was so vast that it might have been identical to the palaces in Naboo, but of course in the eyes of a child. The only thing that ran in your mind was the games you’d play in the gardens or the foyer, running around and playing house all with your dolls.

Your parents were perhaps the kindest people you’ve known, especially your mother, Jezria. But there were times that the anger in her voice scared you—even if those harsh, loud words were never meant for you in the first place.

They were for that man, with a snowy white head of hair and a bearded face atop a black ensemble, who comes by your house every once in a while. The only thing that stood out in your eye was the expensive silver chain that clasped the cape behind his back.

“So, you’ve come here again,” Jezria growled as she descended the stairs, greeting the guest rather coldly compared to the welcoming vibe that she usually gives off during gatherings. The skirt of her dress billowed over the marble steps, as her manicured fingers slid down the glossed wooden bannister, complementing her regal yet fierce demeanor.

As soon as Jezria’s heels touched the smooth floor, she took you under her arm, shielding you from the visitor’s sight albeit being quite a futile effort.

“Mommy, who is he?” you muttered.

The man’s head tilted downward, proving that he’d heard you. His serious eyes made you hide away behind your mother’s skirt, leaving only a peep at the corner of your eye.

“So, you haven’t told your daughter of her own uncle,” his voice was baritone and spoke in an aristocratic, firm accent. He shakes his head. “Is that how much you hate me, Jezria?”

“Because her life is better without knowing who you are to her!!”

“Foolish woman! Do you think altering your surname into “Moorken” changes anything!? You can change your name, your face, but _never_ your blood!” he bellowed back, cutting the air with a swift sweep of his arm. “You don’t know what your own child is capable of! Only my master and I know the true potential of her power. No matter how many times you deny it, my sister, [y/n] will always have the eyes of Darth Sidious.”

“Whoever he is… No, frankly I don’t give a damn who he is!” Jezria’s teeth were clenched so tightly that her words nearly incoherent. “He will not touch my [y/n]!”

“Underestimating him may not be the wisest thing you’ll ever do, Jezria. And as far as I know you are an intelligent woman.”

With one step forward from your supposed uncle, Jezria—with you still hiding behind her hip—takes one step back away from her brother. Your mother further shielded you with the wide sleeve that dangled from her slender arm, almost veiling you from the eyes of her brother.

“Leave my home, you Separatist parasite! And if you come for [y/n] to try and take her from me, _you will never hear the end of me,_ my dear brother.” she snarled, a true dragon-lady baring her teeth.

The visitor’s beard quivered as he harrumphed, his eyebrows furrowed so much that wrinkles formed across his forehead and the bags under his eyes became more prominent. He strode the grand aisle of the vast foyer, the hem of his cape swept the marble as he departed until he disappeared from the hollow thud of the great doors.

Jezria had kept her ferocious façade on until her brother was gone. Finally, with the dying echo of the door’s thud, her shoulders relaxed and her lungs loosened, but her hand never removed you from her embrace. You repeated the question, hoping that she would answer.

Having no choice, she sighed and melted to her knees, levelling herself to you.

“Darling, you heard him…” she sighed, quite disappointingly at the fact that you’re related to that visitor.

“My uncle? You never told me much about him, mom.”

“I know, dear, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you soon enough,” she gulped. “But… I’ll explain it to you later. I hope that one day you’ll understand.”

Understanding that her ten-year-old daughter had no full grasp of the concept that she and her brother were fighting about, the least she could do was simplify it; and while her elder brother departed their home, Jezria had already concocted a plan for her family.

* * *

“No, you have no right!!” your mother roared.

“I told you it would come to this!” your uncle rebutted.

The same exchange occurred just a few days turning ten years old. You may not have understood it, but it’s as if this man has timed the exact moment where he would have to cause another commotion in your household. Only this time, it has become more physical than the first time—you watched your mother attempt to push your uncle farther away from reaching the staircase, where you’re perched by the railings. Using his forearm as a shield to fight off Jezria’s pushing, he shoved her away as they went verbally ballistic against one another.

“And I told you that you won’t get anywhere near [y/n]!”

“Then I have no choice, Jezria, I will do what I must!”

He pushed her away to give himself some space. Jezria had the foresight that her brother would reach for his weapon—a curved black hilt strapped to his brown leather belt—and she beat him to it. A sleek, silver blaster—a streak of white shine underneath the chandelier light gleamed and adorned the body and barrel—pressed cold against the forehead of her brother.

The drawing of their weapons made you shift from where you perched in full view of them downstairs.

“I will put a hole between your eyes if you even do so much as touch your weapon with your finger,” Jezria snarled, her thumb flicking the safety.

“Are you really challenging _me_ , dear sister?”

“If that’s what it takes, _Count_.” She firmly said, hinting sarcasm on his title, albeit her voice shuddering.

Your uncle sensed the trembling of her hands, he could feel it from the slight twitching of the barrel against the flesh of his forehead; an arrogant smirk popped out of his snowy beard, he slowly lured his hand away from his weapon, but Jezria knows full well that he’s not yet done with this charade.

“Leave. My. Home.”

Her finger hovered just a hair strand’s length away from the trigger.

Silence. A single heave of breath lifted the man’s broad shoulders.

“NOW!!!”

“This is _not_ over, Jezria. Not until my master has what he wants!”

The Count—as your mother addressed him—backed away slowly until the barrel isn’t touching his head anymore. Again, as he turned tail, his maroon cape swooshed and billowed in the stale air which his heated exchange with his sister remained with. For the first time, you saw that he—in a way—was similar to you: with a single wave of his hand, the door opened at his whim, and he didn’t even lay a finger on the shiny doorknobs!

You’ve had such experience before: making things move at your whim without having the need to touch them. Your mother educated you what she knows—but her brother’s knowledge towers over hers, it didn’t matter, she only told you what you needed to know about the unseen entity they call the Force.

His presence always gave you anxiety, although you couldn’t help but stand witness to the ballistic trade of words between him and your mother. It felt like you were unfurling a family mystery all on your own, and to some extent, you were—but you never imagined it to be like this. As a child, you always had the precedent that whatever adults say are true—and your uncle’s words haunted you ever since he stepped through the front door.

_He’s going to take me?_

_Will I ever see Mommy and Papa if he brings me with him?_

_Who is the other man they were talking about?_

These were the questions that troubled you at night, until they have bothered you to exhaustion that you slept on them and worried about them in the next.

That next evening, the Count didn’t think of paying another visit, but this worried Jezria to a tee. Prior today, she had already put her plan into play: her husband already went ahead, disappearing from the gargantuan family manor to secure a safe route for your escape to the next planet, as she made herself busy getting changed and packing her bags, as well as yours.

Not meaning to disturb you or scare you—even though you’re already the latter—she barged into your bedroom. You were already instructed to get changed as well; and so you’ve been waiting for your mother’s signal to leave. The moment she popped her head into the space of the door she opened, you hopped out of your bed and took her hand.

“Keep up with me, darling!” she whispered, keeping her breath low in the dark.

“Where are we going?”

“To the ship, we’re going someplace far away from here… where he can’t take you,”

Perhaps Jezria’s constant underestimation of her brother—and indirectly the so-called master he always referred to—was her undoing, despite her best intentions of keeping her family safe.

Of course, she did not have that foresight or realization. What only mattered to Jezria weren’t the threats but her husband and daughter and that they were together—carefree and perfect, before her brother’s ugly head poked itself through her doorstep.

Mother and child boarded a shuttle. Jezria alone piloted the ship, prepped it and took off, while you sat buckled up in the co-pilot seat, observing her graceful fingers fluidly dancing across the dashboard controls; beeps chimed into your ears that it was nearly nauseating, the twinkling of the screens blinded you and made you see double, until the rumble of the ship hovering from the ground caused you to sink into your seat.

“Hold tight, dear,”

“Okay, Mom,” you said, ever so obediently.

This was actually your very first time to see the outside of Serenno. You were educated about the different planets and systems from your tutors, but everything you’ve learned about them failed to slam you with the celestial-scale oomph right in the face when you saw the endless sheet of black riddled with stars.

The sight was breathtaking, the neighboring planets’ sizes in a little ten-year-old’s eyes were simply impossible to fathom. Jezria relished the sight of your innocent smile, the fascination twinkling in your eyes, and the gaping smile that remained as your head spanned only a fraction of the galaxy. She hoped that she’d live to see that face again once the family has established a peaceful life, away from the eyes of the Count.

Jezria was finally able to relax and breathe easy as she cruised the shuttle through space. For once, the silence was comforting, she would banter with you, make little guessing games about the planets the shuttle has passed by or what system you could be in.

“Can you name at least another planet in the same space region?” your mother quizzed.

“Well, since home is in the Outer Rim, then another Outer Rim planet could be… Felucia!”

“That’s right, Felucia is also in the Outer Rim Territories!” your mother beamed. “You sure kept your lessons to heart.”

That smooth sailing was interrupted in the blink of an eye when another ship from behind has opened fire, damaging the stern of the shuttle. The screens flashed erratically while Jezria desperately multitasked in stabilizing the ship while taking damage.

“Mom!” you shrieked, tongue-tied and terrified that you were mute for a second.

“It’s okay, [y/n]! It’s going to be okay!”

From the graceful dancing of fingers that you saw moments ago, your mother’s arms flailed in all directions trying to stabilize the ship while being tailed and fired at the ship.

“An assassin, of course!” she growled under her breath.

“What’s going on!?”

“We’re being tailed. Hold on, [y/n]! Whatever happens, just hold on!”

You continued to observe your mother throwing her hands to all sides, attempting to keep the ship flying. The center screen, the widest in the dashboard, flashed a bright orange while projecting the cross-section view of the engines. Whatever button Jezria presses, the orange on the screen never disappeared, rather it gradually turned red to emphasize the severity of the damage.

Suddenly, she could no longer steer the ship forward. The shuttle had been caught into a tractor beam for boarding. A brief thud shook the ship. The magnetic field of the beam has already taken hold of your shuttle.

There’s nothing much she can do right now.

She hopped out of her seat and took you out of yours as well. In her burst of adrenaline, she was able to carry your entirely—the same way she has cradled you as a toddler—to the escape pods. The banging against the door pounded at the same time your heart beats. The assassin has boarded the ship. A single unit can only fit one person, and there were two; before shutting the pod, she cupped your face so that you heed her well.

“[y/n], listen to me. You’re safe in this escape pod, the coordinates have already been entered in the controls. I’ll go in the second pod. And we’ll go see Papa together, okay?”

At face value, you understood well enough that you’re being separated from your mother. You began to choke while fighting back tears, never have you ever clutched your mother’s arm, and the fright was too great for you to bear alone. You weren’t even sure if you’d keep up with her in your own escape pod.

“Mom, please don’t leave me,” you cracked.

“I won’t, darling,” she kissed your forehead. Another bang from the door. “You know what to do, don’t you? I taught you this, remember?”

You nodded nervously, suddenly unconfident, but the lessons were still intact.

“You will be alright,” she removed her necklace and wore it around your neck. She pulled you in the tightest embrace she has ever given you, it was almost suffocating but you didn’t care. “I love you, darling. Oh my baby. My baby [y/n].”

You could hear her sobbing. It took a lot of her willpower to pull away, you sensed it that much. Just when she was about to board her own pod, the assassin had already broken down the door and attacked your mother. By sheer instinct, she slammed the eject button with her fist—but only for your escape pod.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” you screeched at the top of your lungs, the fiberglass window muffling the full volume of your cries. Your tiny fist pounded the door but it was too thick. From that small circular window that only occupied the whole of your face, you watched your mother defend herself against the assassin.

The assailant was fully covered from helmet to boot. Not even a peek of the eyes through the visor. Jezria and the assassin traded strikes with their vibroblades. You were so caught up with crying for your mother that you didn’t feel the loss of gravity around your escape pod. As the vessel throttles minutes later after ejection and drifts away into space, the less you saw of your mother. You continued to shriek through the door, unable to realize that there’s nothing much you could do except repeat the words “No” and “Mom.”

Farther away, you had full view of the shuttle, but no better view of Jezria. The next moment, the shuttle burst into flames. It felt like time had frozen itself, cruelly forcing you watch it for as long as the galaxy could take. Orange and red coated the original color of your irises, you held your breath even though you still had enough oxygen, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the destruction.

_Your mother was in there._

You didn’t see the second escape pod be jettisoned. _It never did._

You know the words, you just don’t have the strength to utter it through your mouth or your mind.

You’re now alone, stuck in the middle of space in a claustrophobic vessel that well may be your casket. Just when you were close to sulk on the floor and give up, the temperature around the pod flared, the turbulence rattled the pod so strongly that you practically shook with it.

Luckily, dejection still hasn’t devoured you fully. You followed the safety protocols of the escape pod from entering the atmosphere until you’ve landed and touched a planet’s surface. You buckled up, remembering what your mother taught you; upon realizing that your mother never entered any coordinates and just jettisoned your pod to safety before the assassin could reach you, now you could never reunite with your father as well, the only thing left to do is try to land the pod as daintily as you can.

“I hope this works…!” you groaned as you parroted the same dexterity your mother possessed when manning the ship.

The escape pod had a rough landing, but following the procedure greatly factored in your survival. You emerge out of the crash, bruised and dirtied, you gathered what you can from the wreckage and hiked your way to nowhere. With every step, you attempt to register every single thing has transpired. You may only be ten years old, but you were able to put the pieces together and assume the worst.

It was your uncle. No doubt about it.

“Now he’s done it,” you snarled, the searing heat of the sun burned along with the rage that colored your cheeks.

You decided to stick with that, overlooking one crucial question: can you prove it?

It all seemed hopeless. You’ve been wandering around in this temperate planet for hours now with little supplies. You’ve fought off the temptation of rummaging your bag for rations, you’re too famished to even think about conserving them.

That is until you met a kindly Iktotchi, the same Iktotchi who will foster you in the next few years into the woman you’ve grown to be now.


	7. Unlikely Prize

Cal charted a course back to Zeffo.

“Why’d you wanna go back there?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a good look of the place,” Cal shifts in his seat as he reasons out, sneaking a side glance at Greez to watch out for his reaction. “Because I blacked out after being caught into a stasis detonator.”

“Oh…” Greez moaned with guilt in stringing along his words.

You made yourself comfortable while the newly-patched up ship zooms through hyperspace. From the couch at the holotable, you watch the crew busy themselves with their dashboards and computers, while you’re stuck to staring at the planet’s map projection, though you didn’t mind—it felt nice to have everything staying still and quiet for a change.

The silence, the engine hum, and the faint chirps of the dashboard computers—altogether, it was nostalgic.

You were so used to the sparks of welding guns and blaster fire that the silence was completely foreign yet comforting. You allowed your back to slump against the smooth leather cushion, the engine hum lulled you to sleep like a lullaby, and the blue light glared back at your eyes, making it feel heavier by the second.

However, the latter was immediately cut off by Cal stepping into the room with you.

“Hey, how you holding up?”

“I’m okay, just exhausted from all of… _this._ ” you gestured at everything, referring to the skirmish back at Nalima and even repairing the Mantis did a number on your strength.

Cal sat down next to you, but he didn’t initiate a conversation. Unmoving, you examined his features: his freckles gave him a certain charm, your eyes trailed along the waving locks of his hair—the blue glow oddly mixed well with his ginger head—but what really catches you is the awkward motions he does with himself such as slouching against the couch, shaking his knee, or fiddling with the chipping of his glove.

Both of you know perfectly well that there is that one topic that’s been crawling at the back of your minds. Either of you were just waiting for the other to bring it up. Cal was too shy to bring it up. As for you, the topic was an odd conversation starter—especially if you’ve only known the guy for only a few hours.

“Back at Melgu’s place,” Cal finally started. “He called you a Serennian.”

“Yeah, I am one,”

“How’d you end up in Nalima?”

“It’s long a story,” you sighed, lightly combing your scalp with your fingers, staring at the holotable with blank eyes to avoid looking back into Cal.

Sensing that it was a bit of a hard topic for you to open up. He decided on another question.

“Were you…” he trailed off, that was enough to draw your attention back to him. “Were you ever a Jedi?”

You shake your head, “No, but… they tell me that I’m strong with the Force. I’ve only known so little about it that I honestly don’t grasp the concept in full, really.”

“Who taught you about it?”

“My mother, but she wasn’t like me. I was told that I was more sensitive, for some reason that I don’t know or can’t explain or don’t understand at all. I only knew one other person who was like me… but I don’t want to be associated with him.”

The voices, the exchanges, the words—they all rang back into your head. The conversations of your parents that you overheard, they were mostly about politics—a subject you couldn’t comprehend for your age that time.

“Apparently, that one person who is like me is a Separatist leader,” you scoffed, resenting him. Fully remembering his name from the hushed, private whispers of your mother; never has she said his first name, only his title in full—with the original family name—or simply the title alone. “And he’s no ordinary Separatist leader. He wielded a weapon like yours. A lightsaber, as you call it.”

In an instant, he put two and two together.

Cal reminisces way back to the Clone Wars, he had heard of the name from various conferences where he tagged along with his master back in the Jedi Temple. Although he and Master Tapal never had the opportunity to face him whether in combat or in a diplomatic negotiation, this particular lightsaber-wielding Separatist leader often found himself the talk of the town amongst the Senate and Jedi Council alike.

The mere recitation of his name stoked the embers of hate and anger that you have always carried for him. Your conviction that he was the one behind the murder of your mother remained unwavering all these years—her death may not be by his blade, but her blood spilled into his hands anyway.

“All my life, the only name I knew and carried was [Y/N] Moorken. I believed it to be my family’s name, but when he said our name was altered, I realized that my mother was dissociating us—my father and I—from him. I remember her telling him that I was better off never knowing him at all. I’ve heard everything—what he’s done, especially back in the Clone Wars, and I promised myself that I won’t turn out like him.”

You pull your legs to your chest, hugging your shins with your arms and resting your chin over your knees; you couldn’t maintain eye contact with Cal, your mind dwelled on the memories of those heated exchanges, the spitting of words, until it reached to the point where the sight of the shuttle exploding—with your mother in it and perhaps the assassin as well—forced you to conclude your flashbacks.

Cal noticed your flinching, but both of you sat in silence. For one, he was relieved that you had told him sooner; you had your reasons—one of them being that you sensed Cal that he was trustworthy enough, it was a combination of intuition and the Force trying to guide you in baby steps.

“Does this change anything on how you think of me?”

Your straightforwardness took Cal aback. It took a lot of guts from you to speak so bluntly like that, despite it being quite a heavy topic for you to disclose. He couldn’t imagine why you would think that he—or any of the crew—would shun you for who you are… or were, at least.

That was the only time you looked back into his eyes, playing into a turquoise to teal hue from the illumination of the holotable. You hate yourself for bringing up more detail, although you couldn’t help it; you have been looking for an outlet—such as someone to open up to—and you simply let loose. A sigh concluded your piece, half-expecting Cal to react and the other half expecting him to say nothing.

He shakes his head, “No, it doesn’t. Though, it just… rather adds up to my perspective of you.”

“Right…”

The two of you remained in your seats, a quake that signaled the Mantis’s landing, it prompted the two of you to stride towards the door. The entry ramp opened and a cold gust of wind greeted you. A few droplets of the rain carried by the clouds riddled your cheeks, as if that’s the planet’s way of kissing you welcome. Goosebumps pelted your skin due to the abrupt change of temperature—from Nalima’s warm and temperate climate to the gusty windstorm of Zeffo.

“I’ll be away in a few minutes, this shouldn’t take long,”

“Where will you go?”

Cal points to his north.

“I won’t be long there, unless of course I end up winding into the wrong way,”

You chuckle, “I doubt it.”

“Are you coming with?”

You stammered at the beginning, “I just might take a look around this part. I wouldn’t wanna end up too far away.”

Cal ended the exchange with a curt “Alright then” and headed off. When he was gone, you had the space of the hangar to yourself. You walk to the west part of the platform and you had a full view of the waterfalls cascading with one another, their water black yet their foam white as clouds—as if the night sky had become the floor of this planet until the true evening falls.

Your shoulders jumped when a roaring TIE Fighter zooms past the horizon above the waterfall plateau. You watched it come and go like a comet in the gray skies until it disappeared into the mountain’s backside.

“Huh, no surprise there,” you thought out loud.

You turned around and sprinted towards the derelict hangar. It was devoid of life, but for a scavenger this may as well have been a gold mine! Crates upon crates towered over your height, some were flimsily blanketed with tarps that weren’t long enough to fully conceal them, exposing the Empire’s sigil tattooed in white paint on the boxes’ faces beside the label of its contents.

Using the hem of a tarp to wipe off the dust that’s collected on one side of a crate, you reveal the white Aurebesh label beneath the grime, the label reads: PROJECT AUGUR – RESOURCES.

The first two words were intriguing. You pulled away the tarp that covers its lid, you opened to find a medley of parts that were of great variety. Picking each one up to examine them and then returning them when they didn’t attract you that much, you went on rummaging through the crates for something that you could use. After all, it’s not like the Stormtroopers will notice.

“Do they even keep a track list of these stuff?” you scoffed, examining an odd-looking part that somehow resembled a piston but you knew full well that it wasn’t.

You didn’t notice the rust-colored blast door at the other end of the hangar until it resounded loud enough for its echoes to bounce across the natural stone walls. You jolted in response. The feeling of the unknown behind that door made your heart wild.

Out of the blue, it would’ve appeared that the wind had gained a voice—an incoherent yet audible sound fluttered with the stale wind. The air hummed—hollow and foreboding—but something about that door gravitated you to it, luring you closer until your fingertips touch the controls. The pads of your first two fingers rested on the button, you hesitate, that is until the air whispered to you again—you could’ve sworn you heard your name.

_“Darling…? My darling [y/n]?”_

You abruptly twirled to your back, eyes wide and frantic as they search the empty hangar. The voice uttered your name again, this time you turned to the door, hoping to find the face of _that_ voice.

“Mom?”

You pawed the blast door, hoping that she’d call again; you finally pressed the button, the door whizzes open but you’re met with an empty corridor. Unbeknownst to you, the path and hallway laid out to you was not the real one. It was the Force testing your senses and perhaps your mental willpower.

 _“Darling, where are you?”_ Jezria’s melodic voice sounded almost too ghostly, but you didn’t notice. You’re too caught up with the idea of reuniting with your mother—even if she had been dead for years.

The illusion was so surreal, too enticing even, that you lost track of things—perhaps even your senses as well—in the expense of seeing your mother another time. You spot her, but she continued to go ahead of you, a gaping distance divided mother and child.

“Wait! Mom, wait for me!” you cracked. Chasing her through the long hallway that doesn’t seem to cease in length.

Jezria, of the shell of her anyway, kept on walking. Her back to you as she continued forward.

“I’m almost there!” you announced, though unsure whether you’re announcing it for your mother or coaxing yourself to keep on.

You came upon another door, thankfully the end of the tunnel, but as you opened the second door, the next place that you reached made your small yet eager smile dissolve.

You stand in the midst of a manor’s hallway. In a single glance, you easily identified that the architecture was of Serennian make. The gray marble floors, the finely embroidered drapes along the tall windows, and the expensive-looking deep purple wallpaper with light wooden paneling that was glossy to the touch. You know this interior even with your eyes closed.

_It’s your house._

“Home?” your eyebrows furrowed so much that your forehead wrinkled. You surveyed the area, and then behind your back, the same rust-colored door remained. “I don’t get it…”

Nevertheless, you strode through the hallway, following your mother’s trail.

“Foolish child…” a faceless voice hummed along the walls.

“Who’s there?!” you violently spun.

“What weak resolve,” it continued.

“Where are you!?”

“Like mother… like daughter,”

You clenched your jaw and fists, slowly turning around while surveying the entirety of the hallway.

“Show yourself!” you snarled.

“Had you been surrendered to me, then things would have been significantly different. Your mother and father would still be alive. You’d have so much power in your hands that—not even in your current age—could fathom its real meaning down to its last fiber.”

“No, you’re wrong!”

A figure appeared from the curb around the end of the hallway. It was him.

“Count Dooku.”

Even for an apparition, he seemed satisfied to hear you utter his name. He took it as a greeting and bowed curtly with a smile making his white beard more angular.

“So, you finally decided to speak my name. No matter how many times my idiot sister tried to eradicate my very existence from your life.”

You reached for your staff and immediately drew it out to its full length. Count Dooku’s apparition chuckled, amused by your naïve courage.

“Oh, child, you do not understand what is right in front of you, don’t you?”

“Does it matter? I’ll destroy you either way. You had my mother killed!”

“Puh!” Dooku harrumphed, the aristocratic air loomed around him that it’s basically his aura. “Jezria was weak. Always trying to put a façade that she can never hold up! Incapable of protecting herself and ultimately her own daughter!”

“Stop it! Shut up! You don’t know anything about her—neither do you know anything about me!”

“I don’t need to. Once the Emperor has you in his grasp, with my mission complete, I have granted him a prize: my own niece, strong and powerful in the Dark Side of the Force!”

“I am nothing like you!” you roared. “I WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU!!!”

* * *

In the middle of his roaming, something piqued within Cal enough to stop him in his tracks. From the cliffside, the cold gale muffled out the abrupt, rhythmic thunder of the pulverizers, but that windstorm didn’t do much to stunt Cal’s senses with the Force. Peering over the black waterfalls below, he tried to reach out, albeit briefly, just so he could pinpoint whatever’s troubling him.

“Bee-chirp?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, just… had a feeling. Got worried for a second,”

Cal continued his way to the Imperial headquarters, upon his entry, all of the Stormtropers had their backs turned to him—whether facing the way ahead or keeping their noses stuck to their computers. He slipped into the elevator and slammed the up button. He got to the upper level, he prowled through the ventilation shafts. The Stormtrooper’s idle banter revolved around the subject of complaining that they got nothing to do in the planet and wanted to be assigned to another, where there ought to be action.

“Did you hear that?”

Both Stormtroopers’ heads panned across the room, searching for the source of the sound—which was Cal landing on the balls of his feet against the metal grates.

“Probably just those typical exhaust bursts from the fans,”

“Shouldn’t we report that? I mean, won’t that blow up?”

“Nah.”

Cal continued to stalk in the shadows, away from the enemies’ sight, just when he had his chance to strike, their hands immediately jerked up and pressed against the ear area of their helmets. He thought he had been spotted, but he stood corrected.

“Still, it’s better if we—wait, I’m getting a radio call here!”

“Me too! What the… Jedi?!”

The young redhead’s eyes widened upon hearing the words. He knew whom they’re talking about.

“She doesn’t have a saber though!”

“So, she isn’t Jedi?! Then what?”

“It’s the fugitive from Nalima! But we’re being called as reinforcements at the caves,”

“Ugh hate that place!”

Cal watched the enemies depart via elevator, en route to the ice caves.

“[y/n]…!” he exclaimed under his breath.

Luckily for him, Cal knew the shortcut—he just needed to pass through that Purge Trooper with a rifle.

Meanwhile you were facing off the swarms of Stormtroopers coming wave after wave on you. Thanks to that delusion, you didn’t realize that you’ve wandered off into the abandoned village. But your outburst at the end has caused another energy wave exploding out of you, disorienting and alarming the stationed Stormtroopers in that very area.

So far, you were able to fare quite well against them even with just your techstaff; with the adrenaline of the outburst, you felt like you could do this all day, not once did you feel tired. The voice of Dooku in your head—as much as you hated it to hear him—coaxed you with every move, distortedly affirming and encouraging your every attack.

_“That anger is your best weapon. Show no mercy! Let the Dark Side of the Force give you the power you so deserve!”_

“Get out of my head!” you snarled as you fought, not caring whether or not the Stormtroopers heard you.

As for those troopers with blasters, you evaded them—utilizing both the self-defense skills you’ve learned through the years, amplified by the Force with which you couldn’t harmoniously bend to your will yet.

Eventually, the soldiers in white armor have stopped pouring in, but their horde was replaced by a singular Purge Trooper wielding twin batons. This enemy’s body may be lithe, but here was a lethality that he imposed upon the way he projects himself to his victim.

“Well,” he snarled. “You’re no Jedi, but _you_ are a prize for the Emperor!”

You didn’t exactly grasp what he meant by that, though it didn’t matter—your survival did.


	8. Bound by Fate or by Blood?

Apparently, the only reinforcement they needed was the Purge Trooper. His kind was specifically made for Jedi—but _you_ were an exception.

“You’re no Jedi,” the trooper points out, brandishing his twin batons. He points one at you. “But the Emperor says you’re a prize!”

Your weapon’s caliber is a bar below his batons, but that didn’t falter your will. Positioning yourself in a defensive stance with your techstaff in front of you, buckling your knees and keeping your grip firm.

“Ha! Don’t make me laugh, kid!” the Purge Trooper sniggered.

“I wasn’t trying to!”

Slightly impressed by your determination, he lunged towards you in a deadly nimbleness, you barely afforded a second to react. Deflecting him in the last minute resulted in a flimsy block that you leaned backwards, accepting all his weight onto you. With little strength you could gather, you pushed him away so you could reset your stance.

Finally, you were able to trade strikes with this black-armored Purge Trooper; though, as much as you hate to admit it, he was more skilled than you were. Granted, he’s probably received top-notch quality his whole life, while you only survived and learned through street and cantina brawls.

_I can’t shake him… He’s trying to tire me out!_

Meanwhile, the Stormtroopers who received the radio call saying that you were spotted in the caves was a red herring. Cal almost wondered if this was an elaborate trap to separate the two of you. Now he’s stuck with facing off the Stormtroopers stationed there before getting to you.

The comms gauntlet of the Stormtrooper he just downed beeped, in a miraculous convenience, and the voice of another trooper fizzled through the reception.

“Insurgent found in the village. Purge Trooper RF-4756 already engaging her.” The voice calmly reported, indicating that he’s only standing by and watching the fight ensue.

“Gotcha!” Cal exclaimed under his breath and headed for the elevator that leads out to closest point to the village.

Unfortunately, he was hindered by the creatures and troopers—who were on high alert—who spotted him in the caves. He tried to make quick work of them, just so he wouldn’t have the stress of being tailed by enemies—especially troopers—when they’re headed to one common destination. But the Stormtroopers accompanied by a single, lance-wielding Purge Trooper, held Cal back from reaching you.

In his burst of adrenaline, he struck his fist against the soil, sending off an energy wave of Force against his surrounding enemies and disorienting them. Before they could stand up, Cal cut them down and rushed for the elevator, avoiding the Jotaz and the other creatures that stood in his way to the lift.

“I don’t have time for this!” he grumbled, evading the charging Phillak and immediately cut down the Scazz as he ran past it.

The elevator hummed and rumbled when Cal’s boot weighted against the pressure plate. The lift was slow, but he kept jostling himself, antsy and impatient—it took a single beep from BD-1, apparently asking if you could be alright, to calm him down.

“I hope she is,”

The Purge Trooper wasn’t having any of it today, although he made it seem like a game. You scarcely made a dent on him, he continuously deflected your strikes and forcefully hammered his batons against both ends of your staff. For a body so slender, the amount of strength he puts on his attacks was staggering.

“Good night!” he snarled and tossed out a stasis bomb to your way.

You were too late to remove yourself out of its blast radius. You’re caught in the net—the static current numbed your muscles as they wrapped around your calves like vines until it crawled all the way up to your body, further halting the movement of your torso and then arms and eventually your neck.

You watched your opponent walk over the static field unaffected, he pommeled you across the cheekbone, knocking you out while you’re immobilized. He nudged your stomach with the tip of his boot. Your fingers were slightly twitching, but he saw you’re out cold. He presses a single button on his gauntlet.

“I’ve apprehended the Emperor’s prize,” he reported. “Requesting transport shuttle.”

“Confirmed, RF-4756. Please indicate area coordinates.”

A transport shuttle shortly arrived to the planet, hovering by the cliffside of the village’s edge. The Purge Trooper scooped you up, carrying you like a sack. From the distance, Cal heard the engine of a ship from his current location; he followed the general direction of the gray ship he spotted. He immediately knew where it’s headed, but he arrived too little too late.

“NO!! [Y/N]!!”

“Jedi! Over there!”

A row of Stormtroopers barred him again. Cal’s finding it quite vexing to find enemies standing in his way when things are most dire. He spotted the transport by the cliff, he saw your unconscious body carried over the Purge Trooper’s shoulders as he enters the ship.

“NO!!”

He quickly slowed down the windmill to cross over the gap, but the transport ship was already hovering away from the edge, the gap became more and more impassable as it stretched. Cal watched the ship gain altitude, he immediately went through the shortcut leading back to the Mantis on the landing pad.

“Cere!” he called through the commlink. “They’ve taken [y/n]! Do you see the transport ship?!”

“Yes, I see it!” Cere replied, her barking orders bled through Cal’s commlink. “Captain, prepare for take off! I’ll see if I can make a backdoor to their communications. Hurry back!”

“Already am!”

Meanwhile, in the ship where you’re held captive, the Purge Trooper ordered the pilots to set a course for Mustafar.

“I’m getting the payday of a lifetime!” the Purge Trooper boasted.

“Is it the Jedi?” one of the pilots dared asking.

“No, it’s the other one,”

The two pilots exchanged glances, despite their nearly-opaque helmet visors, each one could immediately tell which “other one” the trooper was referring to. Neither of them said a word, as much as they wanted to, and charted the course to the volcanic planet.

The Purge Trooper RF-4756, overly proud of himself and excited to show off his achievement, slumped on the other chair behind the pilot’s seat. Not bothering to understand what flashing symbols meant on the secondary dashboard screens, he rested his feet over them, leaned back against the seat—quite far enough to make the backrest bend—and cushioned his head with his hands.

* * *

It has probably been hours since you were out cold.

You wake up to find yourself in a prison cell, you’re settled on a bed; not exactly queen-sized as you had hoped—much to your disappointment—it was only a big slab of duraplast painted black, big enough to fit an adult individual. Quite spacious for a single prisoner, though.

“One star for the room quality,” you grumbled sarcastically as you massaged your calves, the static still felt fresh hours later.

You surveyed the entire room—black metal walls with panels for the light to pass through, a sturdy-looking blast door, and of course, the miserable excuse of a bed.

There were no cuffs around your ankles or wrists, expecting that you were, but you supposed that they put all of their faith with the architecture of this cell. The hums that spoke through the wall was stale and inorganic, metal clattered from the water that dripped from the open pipes was so rhythmic that it helped you relax. You decided to stand and walk off the remaining numbness in your legs, you slowly stalked towards the door—feeling the presence of the pair of guards standing in the other side.

You slowly angled your head so your ear faces the door and eavesdropped on the banter borne of their boredom in the silence of the cell block.

“So, let me get this straight: this prisoner can use _the Force_ … but isn’t a Jedi? I thought only Jedi can do that kind of stuff!”

“Yeah well, I don’t understand it either—and frankly, I don’t plan to. I heard from the report she didn’t have their kind of weapon, she only used a staff of some sort—looks hand-made.”

“But for someone that isn’t Jedi, the price on her head is kinda steep, don’t ya think?”

“Yeah, I heard that it’s way above the pay grade. I’m guessing the pay grade of an admiral times five,”

“Wha—!? That _IS_ higher than _anybody’s_ rates! That’s ridiculous! What’s so special about her, anyway?”

The indifferent Stormtrooper incoherently grumbled, you wagered he simply shrugged his shoulders just for this conversation to end. Their banter may be short, but you think you’ve known enough. Shortly after, you felt another presence enter the prison block—it was heavy and foreboding—you had secondhand anxiety from the Stormtroopers once they’re in the presence of the third one.

“L-Lord Vader!” the Stormtrooper, the perky and nonchalant one, shuddered upon addressing his boss.

You backed away from the door, you felt your stomach drop to your feet when the door opened and revealed a lumbering beast of an entity clad in full black armor.

The eyes of his helmet were like the sockets of an empty skull, gleaming a blood-red tinge that afflicted indescribable horror to those who laid eyes on him.

Your hands trembled uncontrollably, not even clenching your fists helped in stopping the shaking; your heart rapidly pounded under sheer stress. As much as you badly wanted to, you cannot take your eyes off of this towering man. You clumsily fell back to the slab, the strength on your feet now unfound as he entered your cell. The gloss over the curve of his helmet shone under the light panels of the room.

“So, _you_ are the prize the Emperor so badly desired,” the baritone that rumbled through Darth Vader’s helmet was frightening enough to get your tongue.

“Dooku’s way overdue, I shouldn’t be of any value to your master anymore!” your voice shuddered as you spat back.

Vader tilted his head upon the mention of that name. He thought he had buried the memory of the name and its owner within the deep recesses of his mind. However, it was neither a long time ago nor was it recent, but the familiarity serves.

“I don’t think so,” Lord Vader hummed. “When your uncle failed to deliver, the Emperor was most displeased with his efficiency—or lack thereof. You are still his blood, we will sharpen those invaluable powers of yours.”

“DO NOT ASSOCIATE ME WITH HIM!! I AM OF NOT OF HIS BLOOD!!!”

The instinctive anger gave you sudden burst of strength to stand up, protesting against Darth Vader’s statement of your lineage. He felt the wave of energy nudge his balance, but he held ground. Rather than be intimidated, he was impressed at how you went from a shying violet to a vessel flaring with rage.

“Yes,” he purred. “Strong are you with the Dark Side. Your hate and anger fuels you, it makes you more powerful than your weak, old man of an uncle could ever be.”

“He killed my mother…” the words involuntarily went past your lips. From that, Darth Vader understood the root of the pent-up, impulsive wrath that claws its way out of your system. “You’ll never get anything out of me!”

“We shall see.”

Not needing a response, he turned tail and you watched him exit your cell; the billowing of his cape almost reminded you of Count Dooku—the way he marched away from your house upon the demand of your mother. You felt yourself melting to the floor, you couldn’t believe that you had the gall to talk back to such a man of power. You weakly crawled back onto the slab, curled into a fetal position and struggled to rest and calm down—your hope and optimism fluctuating.

 _He probably hates me now…_ you sulked in your mind, drawing invisible lines on the slab as you tried to rest.

“No one’s coming… I’m going to die here,” you resigned with a dejected sigh.

You searched for the necklace she had given you during her final moments. You fished out the pendant under your shirt, gazing at the tiny cracks that it’s gotten over time, the gem had already chipped as well. Your thumb ran across the face of the jewel, leaving a blurred smear of your thumbmark over its surface.

“Am I going to see you now, Mom?” you murmured and nuzzled it to your cheek as you closed your hopeless eyes.

Little did you know that Cal and the crew were on their way to Mustafar, after struggling to tail the transport ship that carried you out of Zeffo and splicing their comms at a safe distance. Cere managed to hack through their communications and eavesdrop on the passengers’ banter.

Greez expressively objected the idea, not because he didn’t want to rescue you, but because being in the proximity of Imperials in a foreboding backdrop comprised of a black castle over a river of lava wasn’t exactly his ideal place. Nevertheless, he docked the Mantis close by the castle; with the help of Cere’s expert splicing, she had cloaked the ship with an Imperial signature so they stay incognito under the scanners for as long as she can keep it that way.

“I’ll bust out [y/n] and we’re out of here,”

“Keep your line open then,” Cere advised.

“Always,”

Cal stepped out of the Mantis and searched for an entrance into the narrow pyramid. Perhaps the only way through were the exterior ventilation shafts. After tearing out the grate, he crawled through the vent and followed his instincts, when he got to the point where he can stand up from the crawlspace, he cautiously tiptoed over the grates that served as his floor. He held his breath throughout the ordeal, careful not to make a sound and alert the clueless Stormtroopers beneath his boots, he strained his eyes through the holes of the grate—watching the enemy and his step at the same time. When he reached the end of the vent, he carefully undid the clamps of the vent door.

“Oh, thank the Force,” he sighed with overwhelming relief when he discovered that the end of the tunnel was an empty corridor.

He daintily refitted the grate back to the wall. He prowled through the corridor, hugging the wall in case he comes in the way of Stormtroopers patrolling the area. Cal kept worrying over how you’re holding up right now, where you are, or what they’re doing to you; he continued on while retaining his caution and stealth.

“Cal, are you there?”

“Yeah, Cere, just got myself into the fortress itself,”

“I managed to fish out the coordinates of their prison block, I’m sending it to you now,”

BD-1’s tiny satellite popped out of its designated hatch on his head, receiving Cere’s info that she’s sending from the Mantis; apparently, she had access to certain databases while retaining an Imperial radar signature. When the upload was complete, BD-1 promptly flashed the holomap into the space of the nook he and Cal are hiding in.

“The wonders of Cere,” Cal chuckled to himself as he glanced at the map. “Okay, that ought to be the cell block. Come on, let’s go get her.”

“Booo-woo!!”

Following the map, Cal stalked through the corridors, avoiding the areas where the count of Stormtrooper is dense and avoiding the need to draw out his lightsaber, as it would raise the castle on high alert, and the owner—which he could safely guess is more powerful than an Inquisitor—would send swarm upon swarm of Stormtroopers in his way.

He found the lobby of the prison block, but the bridge was a computer-operated type, so BD-1 did his magic on slicing it with his scomp link. In the process, the little droid stole data of a report that you were scheduled to be brought to an Imperial torture chair. After slicing the computer, he relayed the data to Cal.

“They’re gonna make her into one of them…” Cal mumbled. “We can’t let that happen!”

“Trill, beee! Woop-boo!”

“That’s very brave of you, BD-1!”

The boy and the bot marched over the bridge once it’s connected both platforms. In the second foyer where the door that actually leads the prison itself, Cal spotted your things sitting over the top of the computer terminal, obviously confiscated upon your incarceration. He swiped them and examined your staff, apparently none of the Stormtroopers have figured out how your weapon works, much to their carelessness, they simply left it partially retracted; but not for him—who’s lived his life over scrapping and making handiworks like these in his spare time back in Bracca.

Recalling how you used the weapon in Nalima, he searched for the buttons that triggered the mechanism to unfold and then retract the staff’s heads on both sides. It worked. He clipped it next his saber hanging by his belt and slung over your small bag across his chest.

The wide blast door hissed open, revealing the cell block’s interior. There were floors upon floors of cells, each tier was guarded by two or three Stormtroopers. On ground level, at its center, was the main control terminal; deactivating that would cause a domino effect of opening all the cell doors at once. There is only one problem: the Stormtroopers.

“Huh? I-It’s the Jedi!”

One hand signal from the commander with the red pauldron and all Stormtroopers aimed at the redheaded Jedi standing at the door. Igniting his dual-ended sabers, Cal deflected and returned every single ballistic rod of plasma fired at him. When he had cut down their numbers into a half at a staggering pace, the remaining Stormtroopers had already ordered the alarm.

“That’s not good!” Cal exclaimed.

He finished off the remaining Stormtroopers and ran towards the main terminal. Knowing that he couldn’t undo the alarm, he had to find you fast.

In your cell, your head jerked up when red light pooled around your entire cell, the blaring alarm fully woke you up while attempting to regain your energy while locked up. You didn’t understand why the alarm was off, you peeked through the window of the door—which was only a rectangle enough for your eyes to fit—and saw hordes of Stormtroopers spilling from both sides.

You didn’t understand what’s happening, until you heard the Stormtroopers’ dying groans as you heard a familiar noise. You sat up from your slab bed and watched the door whizz open, only this time, it was Cal standing at the other side.

“Cal?”

“Come on, we’re getting out of here!”

There was obviously no time for questions. Both of you have to move fast.

“Oh, by the way,” he unbuckled your staff from his belt and tossed it to you. “You’re gonna need this!”

It felt great to have your beloved techstaff in your hands again. You drew it to its full length, still in mint condition, a proud smile curled along the line of your lips. You sorely missed it.

You followed Cal out of your cell. He took the lead and you stayed close.


	9. A Fighting Chance

The two of stalked through the corridors under the red light that filled every corner.

Your boots skidded and squeaked against the metal floor when you hear the rhythmic hooves of the Stormtroopers approaching; both of you hugged the wall until the footsteps receded. Cal reared his head over the wall and beckoned you on.

“Why’d you come for me? I was good as dead anyway!”

“And deny you a fighting chance to do good? Never!”

You thanked the Force that he had his back turned to you and that the alarm light still colored the hallways, otherwise, you could _and_ would not have a sappy excuse for your cheeks burning red.

“Cere!” Cal huffed through his commlink. “Do you read?”

“Loud and clear!”

“I found [y/n], we’re passing through the prison block now, but the castle is on high alert,”

“We’ll try to find a way around! Keep your lines open,”

Upon reaching the foyer of the prison block, where the control terminal stands, both of you were stopped in your tracks when the sight of Darth Vader greeted you.

“Oh gods…!” you gasped in sheer fright. “It’s him.”

Cal ignited his saber, preparing himself to face off this dark lord. Your thumb felt for a button, upon pressing it, electric current flowed to the ends of your techstaff. Both of you brandish your weapons at Lord Vader, who was not the least bit challenged.

“Courageous. But foolish.” He chided.

In his hand rested his silver hilt with black stripes at the sleeve. His gloved hand thumbed for the switch and then a blood-red beam emitted from his lightsaber. Without a second’s notice, he jumped and closed the impossible distance between the pair of you and himself—he was standing by the control podium at the ground level, but he got to the second tier within a single leap!

You and Cal dodge-rolled in opposite directions. By instinct, Cal swung his saber at the dark lord to which Vader easily deflected. While the Sith Lord was preoccupied with the boy, you attempted to get a swing at him with your staff—which he surprisingly halted at the last minute using the Force with his free hand. His fingers curled and tensed as he gradually closed it into a fist, slowly crushing the head of your staff with the Force, no amount of your might can pull it away from his hold.

“Had you been any smarter, you wouldn’t be in this situation,”

“Yeah, how perceptive of you,” you managed to let out that dry snark.

You finally got out of Darth Vader’s grasp, but the end of the staff barely held any more electric current, but it still served its purpose as a melee weapon. To Darth Vader, he didn’t feel outnumbered. Two children with weapons felt more like a task than an actual fight, he knows perfectly well that he could end these two right then and there. But he thought of toying them instead, seeing for himself just how far their skills could take them in this duel.

Cal drew Vader’s attention to him, trying to keep the red saber from finding you. When the dark lord read through this tactic, he struck Cal against the face with his pommel—disorienting him and causing him to drop his saber. He then Force-pushed the boy out of the fight, sending him flying down to the ground level, hitting his spine hard against the metal machine podium.

“CAL!!!!” you shrieked.

This may be a trick for Vader to provoke you into tapping the Dark Side, to succumb to your hate and anger, and use it all on him—just so he can prove a point.

“That anger in you,” he bellowed. “It’s seething. Yes, use it!”

You spotted Cal’s lightsaber behind Vader’s feet, you reached out—actually tapping into the Force itself, devoid of the wrath you’ve bottled up for so long and instead found the balance of it all. Darth Vader stood watch in a silent, emotionless curiosity and awe. The lightsaber zipped past his feet, ruffling the hem of his cape, until it found its way to your grip, while keeping your staff in the other. You ignited it as soon as your fingers caged the sleeve.

“If only you knew the power of the Dark Side, only then would you have been more powerful than you already are!”

“I’ll never be like Dooku…” you gasped, struggling to keep the one-handed grip firm around the hilt. “And I most certainly _will never be like you_!” you roared.

A few strikes against the dark lord, he deflected them all; he found your technique quite rough and flimsy, but with every blow, a newfound strength resided within you, within every hit—whether it was blocked or received—and it kept you on your toes as you confronted this lumbering man.

You timed the moment when you could use the Force. Mustering whatever strength you could from it, the energy swirled along your palms; at the perfect moment, you released that wave of Force energy towards Darth Vader, it was potent enough to break his footing and bring him down to the floor. Using it on a whim seems to have taken a toll on your body, since it had been dormant in your system and you barely had any practice in controlling it all this time.

While Darth Vader was down, you sprinted down the stairs towards the ground level. Cal was already coming to, you hurriedly helped him up.

“Can you stand?”

“Yeah…” he groaned, clutching his sore side.

“Come on,” you take him by the hand and return his saber to him.

The two of you make a run for it. As soon as you got through the door, Cal used the Force to seal the door and dash towards the corridor. Knowing that he can’t use the ventilation shaft path, with the castle on high alert and everything, the two of you went through the winding, labyrinthine network of intersections, twists, and turns.

A few good turns around corners and curbs, you find yourselves in a control room filled with Stormtroopers and a KX droid. They had you seven to two. Just when their odds were good, you and Cal evened it out to just two Stormtroopers. You bashed heads with your techstaff while Cal severed the KX droid in half as it fell to its knees.

Smoke wisped out of the cauterize wounds and seared cuts that his lightsaber made. The two of you approached the computer terminal.

“I’ll cover you,” Cal went behind you and faced the door, ignited saber in hand, anticipating for a swarm of enemies.

BD-1 assisted you in hacking the computer and you managed to reach Cere via the radio on the terminal.

“[y/n], is that you?”

“Yes, I’m with Cal in some kind of control room. I think we’re in the very center of the building.”

“Hang on, I found your signatures! There should be a turbolift in the center of that room. Get to the highest level, you should be in an outdoor clearing between the two spires. We’ll meet you there!”

“Gotcha!” the transmission ended and you beckoned Cal to the turbolift.

Cal jammed the door controls as the two of you stood on the platform of the lift. The Stormtroopers banged on the door with the pommels of their blasters as you ascended to your meet-up point. The elevator ride allowed the two of you to finally catch your breaths. Your glances met with one another, you playfully tussled Cal’s hair—causing his sunset-orange locks droop by the hairline—both of you exchanged huffing, naïve chuckles at one another until natural light pooled over your heads.

You could hear the throttle of the Mantis whirring loud into your eardrums and its turbines blowing hot air into your face. The ship hovered sideways so its entry ramp faces your direction as it opens. In your collective periphery, Darth Vader appeared in one of the doors that blended well into black walls of the left-side spire. You froze at the sight of him.

 _Of course he caught up!!!_ You panicked mentally.

“Get ready to jump!” Cal screeched.

Cal took the lead, both of you ran so fast that it felt like flying. You sprinted as fast as your legs carried you, the hot wind breezing over your cheeks and making your hairs flow.

“Come on, [y/n]!”

Cal leaped over to the ramp no problem, but you were a little behind. There was no safety bannister in that clearing, and so from the balls of your feet, you sprang from the edge and hoped to close the gap between the spire’s platform and the entry ramp of the ship.

You barely made it, your arm hooking over the ramp saved your life from plummeting into a hundred-foot drop from the spire to the obsidian floor and lava rivers. Cal took your arm and then the other to drag you back into the ship. Cal stumbled and landed on his back, while securing you in his arms. The altitude was nauseating that you lost feeling your legs again. When you found yourself pressing over his torso, you rolled over to the side, removing your weight against him, breathing out a weak “Sorry.”

“Let’s get out of here!!” Cal exhaled, lying down on the floor as the door closed.

Greez punched it and sent the Mantis flying through the atmosphere out of the literally infernal planet and back into the cold vacuum of space. The two of you were still lying down on the floor, catching your breaths while waiting for the feeling to come back to your limbs and joints. You bobbed your head to the side, facing Cal who had his eyes closed as he kept his mouth slightly ajar to breathe in and out.

“You came back for me…”

The tone of your voice made your line sound more like a question that stating an obvious fact. Cal bobbed his head back to you; his eyes were tired but the gleam of his clear, emerald green eyes shimmered right back at you.

“Of course,” he panted and brought his hand over yours, giving it a light squeeze. “I’d come back for you. We’re a team. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that?”

You managed a small smile along the corner of your mouth, a weak chuckle escaped your throat and you struggled to shake your head.

“No, I didn’t forget,”

“Good.”

Though Cal reminded you that you’re not alone anymore, that you have a new family, and you’re determined in protecting it. Your fingers twitched and curled, intertwining with his, as the Mantis flew off to safety.


End file.
